L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog
by evansentranced
Summary: Dean has a new project. Seamus is determined to find out what it is. Then Seamus corrupts a small child and Dean realizes that sometimes you have to let go. One shot.


_Author: evansentranced_

_Disclaimer: I own no one. Well, maybe Edward and Calix and Diane and that lot...but no one else._

_Summary: Dean has a new project. Seamus is determined to find out what it is. Then Seamus corrupts a small child and Dean realizes that sometimes you have to let it go._

* * *

Dean sat at a table in the common room, pouring over a large piece of parchment. It was filled to the edges with writing and doodles, and Seamus wanted to know what it was. 

Dean had been working on it for days now, and every time Seamus asked him about it, he shook his head and mumbled about how it wasn't finished, how he'd barely even started and other nonsensical ramblings about copyright infringement that made Seamus scratch his head in bewilderment.

Seamus had mentioned it to his dorm mates, and Harry had nodded and said something about artistic inspiration. Neville had told him to just wait it out, and Ron had just shaken his head distractedly and asked what the twelve magical properties of dragon's blood were.

Seamus continued watching his friend, wondering what exactly was going on. Dean had finished doodling, apparently, because he was standing now and rolling up his parchment.

Seamus jumped up and followed him up to their dorm, where Dean opened the window and turned around in time to see Seamus slipping in and setting down on his bed.

"What are you doing, Seamus?" he asked, setting up an easel by the window and pulling out several tubes of paint and a few brushes.

Seamus switched to Harry's bed so he could see better. "Watching you do whatever it is you're doing."

Dean shrugged and went back to his work. "Just try not to get in the way," he mumbled, checking his notes and pulling out a few more tubes of paint.

"What are you making anyway?" Seamus asked, leaning forward and examining the paints with curiosity. "You've been working on this forever!"

"I've barely started!" Dean exclaimed incredulously. "I've not even sketched the actors yet!"

"Actors?" Seamus inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you painting actors?"

"Just wait till it's done, you'll see," Dean said, now sketching on the canvas with a pencil.

"Okay, sure..."

* * *

A few weeks later, Seamus wandered up to the dorm again, meaning to drop off his bag and go back to the Great Hall with everyone else. As he threw it on his bed, however, the canvas caught his eye. It was draped with cloth until Dean finished, so no one would see it. He'd become incredibly secretive about the entire affair once the actual painting had started, and Seamus had been unceremoniously booted from the dorm, and not been allowed in again during Dean's 'Painting Time'. 

Harry and Neville told him to just wait it out, that it would be worth it, knowing Dean. So when Seamus saw that the cloth was starting to slip, he felt it was only his duty as a friend to make sure it didn't fall and ruin the surprise.

And when he twitched the cloth, he certainly didn't intend to accidentally have it fall off.

It was a complete accident.

Really.

When Seamus saw the crowd of hopeful faces in the half finished portrait, he told himself it was merely common courtesy that he introduce himself. Certainly not curiosity and he definitely didn't intend to question them about their creator.

Because he didn't need to know why the painting was so important. Of course not.

So when the group all began chattering at the new arrival, it was purely good manners that made him open his mouth and say,

"Hello. And who're all of you?"

The painted assembly all spoke at once, in high excited voices, and Seamus took the time to examine them all with great interest.

There was a small boy with dirty blonde hair and an adorable smile. He waved shyly up at Seamus from an old woman's lap and hid his face in her shoulder when Seamus winked back. There was a beautiful woman who cast Seamus an alluring glance and made him think of Veela. He pulled his eyes away from her with some difficulty and looked instead at a dark haired man with vivid green eyes who greatly resembled Harry. Painting Harry was grinning up at him and yelled something that Seamus couldn't hear over the rest of them.

Actually, Seamus realized, most of the noise was coming from a centaur who stood on the end of the group, baying and trying insistently to get his attention. Seamus had thought it was the others because the centaur just didn't shut up.

"Hey! Who's that boy up there? Who're you? That's not Dean, I tell you! That's not Dean at' all! That is someone else, and didn't Dean say that no one else was to see us until we were complete? I certainly don't want someone to see me before I'm finished getting ready, do you Diane?"

Diane, who turned out to be the blonde, Veela-like woman, opened her mouth, but before she got the chance to say anything, the centaur continued.

"No, I'll bet you don't! None of us do, do we? You, young man, need to tell us exactly who you are! What are you doing and where is Dean? What have you done with our man? He has to finish painting us, you know, or we'll be stuck in this frame forever! Dean's told us of all the wonderful places and frames out there and I for one would quite like to see them! I know Edward wants to see them too, you told me, didn't you Edward?"

Painting Harry, Edward now, smiled and said, "Well-"

"You did! You told me and now this boy is going to do something to sabotage us! I'll bet you are, aren't you, you fiend! I'll bet you're that dreadful boy Dean mentioned, that Blaise. Are you? Are you that terrible boy? Because you'll not be destroying us before Dean has finished, no sir!"

"I'm not Zabini!" Seamus interrupted in a loud voice, effectively quieting the centaur. "I'm Seamus! Has Dean told you about me?"

"Oh, yes!" Diane said in a lilting voice, stepping forward gracefully before the centaur could open his mouth. "Dean has told us much about you! You are his best friend, are you not?"

Seamus grinned. "That I am, lass!"

"Oh, do you hear his voice?" the centaur asked dreamily. "I just adore his accent! I think I'll adopt it for the show!"

"What?" Seamus asked, wide eyed. "No, I don't think you should do that."

"Why not?" the centaur asked, attempting to imitate Seamus' Irish lilt. "I like it, I do! I think this brogue will fit my character perfectly!"

"Ignore Calix," Edward said with another smile. "He tends to get a bit overexcited about...well..."

"Everything?" The old woman suggested from her seat.

Edward shook his head fondly. "Well, yes. Everything is a good word for it."

"My name is Edith," the old woman said to Seamus, nodding kindly at him by way of greeting.

Seamus nodded back and said, "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am,"

"My name is Terry, and his name is Alfred," the little boy said shyly, pointing at an old man in the far corner of the portrait. "He helps me with my lines."

"I do, I do," Alfred said, hitching up his trousers. "Which reminds me, little man, we're due to practice in about ten minutes. I trust you're ready?"

"Yep!" Terry yelled enthusiastically, then ducked his head and glanced up at Seamus with a blush.

Seamus grinned down at him and said, "Lovely to meet you both."

"Well," Calix said, obviously not appreciating being momentarily ignored, "Dean said no one was to see us. What are you doing here?"

"Yes, young man," Edith asked sternly, "Why are you peeking?"

"It was an accident," Seamus said, reddening at the skeptical looks being directed at him. "The cloth fell off, I didn't mean to look, I just..."

"Sure," Edward said with a wink, "We believe you."

"No, really!" Seamus said worriedly. "It really was an accident! Please don't tell Dean!"

"We won't tell, little boy," Diane said cattily. "Not if you tell us about the other frames."

"The other frames?" Seamus asked, relieved that Dean wasn't going to be yelling at him any time soon.

"Yes! The other frames!" Edward said passionately. "The other worlds out there! Tell us, Seamus!"

"Yes, tell us!" Calix and Terry both begged, giving Seamus doe eyes, and although the look worked very well on Terry, it did look a bit odd on the centaur.

"Um, alright," Seamus said, sitting down on a nearby chair and thinking. "There are all sorts of...er...frames. Some have animals in them, I've seen everything from kneazels and crups to hippos and penguins. There are other people, of course..."

"Other actors?" Terry asked eagerly, having forgotten his shyness in the face of this fascinating new information.

"Ah, no….just people I suppose," Seamus answered. "Why d'you call yourselves actors, anyhow?"

"Because we are actors," Alfred said, drawing himself up in a dignified manner and hitching his pants again. "It is what we do. When Dean finishes our painting, he will show us to the other worlds and we will perform our play, _L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog_! It will be a masterpiece!"

"You're going to perform a play called _L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog_?" Seamus asked, surprised.

"Yes, we are," Edward said keenly. "And Dean says that the inhabitants of the other frames may come visit and join in from time to time, and that is why the dialogue of our play is so open to improvisation."

"Wow," Seamus said, impressed. "That's a really good idea."

"Of course it is," Diane said with an impatient wave of her hand. "This is our Dean we are talking about. Now tell us more about these people in the other frames. What are they like?"

"Well, there are all sorts, I suppose," Seamus responded contemplatively. "There's the Fat Lady, she guards the entrance to our common room, and she's nice enough when you haven't forgotten the password. Sir Cadogan used to guard it back in third year when the school was broken into. He was mad, always challenging people to duels and calling me a scalawag…."

"A scalawag?" Terry cried out in delight. "Alfred!"

"Yes, Terry?" Alfred asked, looking away from Seamus.

"You're a scalawag!" The little boy laughed in delight and jumped up from Edith's lap to her immense disapproval, shouting, "Scalawag! Scalawag!"

"Oh. Bloody. Hell." Seamus said, watching the small boy run around the unfinished painting, shouting the word over and over.

"Bloody hell!" Terry repeated gleefully. "Bloody hell, you scalawag!"

"Oh, no," Seamus said faintly, slumping down in his chair. "Terry, please stop saying that, please? Dean'll kill me!"

"Now look at what you've done!" Edith said disapprovingly. "You've gotten him all excited before practice. We'll never get an entire read through done."

"Could someone shut that child up?" Calix asked irritably, still using Seamus' accent. "If Seamus up there is finished, I'd like to get a bit of work done..." He looked back at the script he was holding in his hand and muttered, "I knew I should have asked for my own frame while he was completing the rest of you..."

"Calix, if anyone was to get a frame of their own, it would have been me," Diane said, sweeping over to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she went. "I am the star of this production. You are but a supporting role."

"Supporting role?" Calix repeated in astonishment. "I am the wise old centaur! I provide..." (And here he drew himself up nobly and spoke in a much deeper, calmer voice) "Knowledge and information for the hero and lead him down the path to righteousness! Does that sound like a supporting role to you, Miss Love Interest?"

"That sounds like a load of old tosh is what it sounds like," Alfred muttered under his breath, winking at Edith. Edith covered her smile with a hand so Calix and Diane wouldn't see.

"You two both have very important roles, you know that!" Edward said earnestly. Both looked around at him and stopped arguing immediately.

"You are too kind, Edward," Diane purred, sidling up to him and taking his arm with a smile.

Calix nodded at him deferentially. "Edward, would you like to read Act Two, Scene Two with me? I want to work on my delivery with this new dialect."

Edward smiled, looking relieved that the argument had been averted, and nodded, answering, "Of course, Calix. I'll just get my script."

Alfred and Edith were both hiding smirks by this point, and Seamus, who had been watching curiously, lowered his voice and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Edward is Dean's favorite," Alfred said softly, looking about to make sure the rest weren't listening. Diane had given up on Edward and Calix and was now trying to quiet Terry, who had made up a new song that consisted mostly of the words, 'Bloody hell, you scalawag!'.

Edith nodded in agreement and finished for him. "And he's the lead role. Those two want to be on Dean's good side, so they figure that if they stay in Edward's good books, he'll put in a good word...Edward is such a sweetheart."

"Dean says he's modeled after one of your friends," Alfred asked curiously. "Tell us about him?"

"Oh, Harry?" Seamus nodded. "Harry's a pretty nice guy. He's got some problems, but they aren't really his fault. Mostly to do with people trying to kill him and stuff."

"Kill him?" Edith said in alarm. "Why would someone want to kill him?"

"Er...long story," Seamus said evasively.

"What is?" Edward asked, flipping through his script and stopping when he saw the sad and worried glances Edith and Albert were giving him, and the shifty eyed look Seamus still wore. "What?"

"It's Harry, the boy Dean told us looks like you," Edith said anxiously.

"What's wrong with him?" Edward asked, suddenly concerned and interested. "Is he alright?"

"Oh, no," Alfred replied, looking troubled. "Seamus here says someone is trying to kill him."

"What?" Edward seemed to be repeating himself a lot in this conversation, Seamus noted. "Seamus, who is trying to kill my Harry?"

"I…" Seamus wondered how much trouble he'd be in with Dean if he told them. It couldn't be much more than he was already in for teaching Terry swear words and making Calix want to talk like a leprechaun. "You-Know-Who has been trying to kill Harry forever."

"I know who?" Edward asked, looking properly bewildered. "No I don't."

"No, it's what we call him," Seamus explained, "He's evil, no one wants to talk about him more than they have to. And Harry's been fighting him since he was a babe."

"So…my inspiration is a hero?" Edward asked slowly, brow furrowed. Seamus couldn't help but think that this expression made the resemblance all the more stunning. "I play the hero in our play," Edward continued thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to be on a quest for the trophy that the story is named for."

"Longle – something?" Seamus asked. Edward nodded and waved his script about meaningfully.

"_L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog _is a play about a young man with no home and no family, who searches the world for L'ongle d'orteil, in the hopes that, in finding it, he will find hope and purpose in life."

"Alright," Seamus said slowly. "I understand…I'm not a French buff. What does Longle deyor-tell mean?"

Edward brushed him off and continued. "He meets a young woman," Diane stepped forward and curtsied. "Named Annabel, who teaches him about love and life and everything in between. Calix plays the wise centaur, Lyall, who provides guidance on his journey, spiritual and directional."

Calix beamed and opened his mouth, but Edward quickly cut him off.

"Alfred and Edith play the elderly couple that provides emotional support in times of sorrow and need, and Clay,"

"He's talking about me!" Terry said in a hushed voice to Edith, who shushed him.

"Provides friendship and comic relief for the hero, along with an outlet through which his heroic nature shines. And I'm the hero, just like Harry!" His eyes shone. "Why didn't Dean tell me what an amazing person I'm meant to portray?"

Seamus tried to ignore this statement, in the hopes that it would go away, and instead said, "You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

"Dean did," Diane said matter-of-factly. "Of course he did, he would never do something halfway. He's wonderful."

The rest of the inhabitants of the portrait nodded. Seamus nodded, feeling slightly awed. They revered Dean like a god!

Which meant that if Dean was to ask, they would almost certainly tell him that Seamus had been there, Seamus thought unhappily. If, that is, it didn't become blatantly obvious once Terry or Calix, or, indeed, even Edward, opened their mouths.

Especially Edward, he thought, watching as the man paced the portrait, growing increasingly agitated.

Seamus almost didn't dare ask, but in the end, his curiosity got the better of him and he said, "What's wrong?"

"I must meet this Harry!" Edward said, longing evident in his eyes. "If I could only ask him a few questions, I'm sure my performance would be scores better! I couldn't hope to match his honor, his charity, his moral center!"

"You've never even met him!" Seamus said incredulously. "You don't know that he's like that!"

"But he is a hero!" Edward said, resuming his pacing. "Even if he does not possess much of these things, he surely possesses them in quantities far more vast than I will be able to portray! He'll think I'm pathetic! He'll think I'm a git! Oh, I cannot do this!" Edward dropped to the ground and buried his head in his hands. "I am not worthy to represent him! I am not even worthy to grace the walls he walks past!"

Seamus was becoming increasingly alarmed. He was starting to think that Dean had purposefully endowed each of his characters with overzealous personalities, in order to make them better actors.

"Edward, calm down," Diane was now sitting next to Edward, rubbing his back and attempting to soothe him. "You are worthy! You are very worthy!"

"Do…do you really think so?" Edward raised his head and eyed Diane with hope in his eyes.

"Yes, I do really think so," Diane smiled fetchingly at him, and Edward seemed to recover himself slightly. "And when Dean comes back, you can ask him to introduce us to this magnificent Harry, so that you might question him and learn how to be even more worthy."

"Yeah?" Edward asked, giving her a nervous smile. "You don't think he'll think I'm pathetic?"

"No! Of course not!" Diane was quick to assure him. "Who could think you pathetic?"

Calix nodded from where he stood behind her. "I don't think you're pathetic."

"Yeah, Edward, you're the star!" Terry bounced over and smiled winningly at Edward, who smiled tearfully up at them all.

"Thanks, you guys are the best," He looked up out of the portrait just in time to see Seamus cover them up with the cloth and disappear. "Goodbye, Seamus."

Seamus called a muffled goodbye through the cloth, and the portrait dwellers all smiled at each other.

"He was a nice boy," Edith said softly from her chair.

"Yeah, he was," Edward agreed.

"It's a pity Dean will have to kill him," Calix added. They all nodded solemnly.

* * *

When Seamus arrived down in the Great Hall, he was greeted by the sight of Dean looking rather suspicious indeed. 

"What took you so long?" he asked through a bite of his Shepard's pie.

"Oh, I stopped off on the way down to talk to someone," Seamus said evasively.

"Who?" Dean asked, watching him curiously and picking up his goblet of pumpkin juice. "Most everyone else was already at dinner."

"Oh, you know, some random third year," Seamus laughed. "A few of them do idolize me, you know."

"No they don't," Dean said, laughing. "They idolize Harry."

Seamus frowned in consternation. "A few of them could idolize me. Not everyone needs to idolize Harry. He looks as though he's had quite enough of that."

They both craned their necks to look down the table at Harry. Indeed, Harry did look quite miserable at the moment, and the cause was readily apparent. Colin was sitting right across from Harry, jabbering at him in his high pitched voice about anything and everything under the sun. Ron and Hermione seemed sympathetic, and appeared to be trying to distract Colin so that Harry could have some peace while he ate.

It didn't appear to be working, and Harry finally threw down his napkin, made his excuses, and rushed away from the table as fast as he could.

Seamus smirked. "See? What did I say? He's had quite enough of that sort of thing."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

And the discussion turned to more interesting topics, like the Falcon's chances this season.

* * *

Seamus sat in the common room with Dean after dinner, having convinced him not to return to his painting immediately with the excuse that Harry was using the dormitory for some good old fashioned brooding. 

He didn't think he'd be able to keep Dean away forever, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

They were still discussing Quidditch, which meant that Seamus was attempting to explain why it was far superior to football.

"And you don't even _fly_," Seamus explained earnestly. Dean nodded to this with the look of someone that had heard such arguments many times before, and was about to open his mouth and deliver his standard retort when a commotion on the stairs to the boy's dormitory distracted him.

Every head in the common room swiveled around to stare at the landing as someone yelled, "I'm not what you think I am! Just _leave me alone!_"

That someone proceeded to stomp quickly down the steps and reveal themselves as a very flushed and confused looking Harry Potter.

Harry crossed the common room quickly, pausing only to give Dean and Seamus the dirtiest look he could muster before storming out in a whirlwind of anger.

Dean seemed rightly shocked as he stared at the portrait hole, but Seamus could only feel guilty. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened and was also pretty sure that it was his fault. He was the one that had stirred up such an interest in Harry.

Dean stood and looked as though he was going to follow Harry and see what was wrong, but Hermione suddenly appeared at the steps of the girls' staircase and asked, "Was that Harry I heard?"

Dean nodded blankly and Hermione left quickly, calling Harry's name. Ron, who had been playing chess by the fire, sighed and followed.

Dean shook his head, and instead went upstairs to see what had caused Harry to glare at him like that.

Seamus sat frozen in his seat, mentally listing his options.

He could run, and later claim that he wanted to help Ron and Hermione find Harry…

But Dean wasn't an idiot; he'd never fall for that.

He could run and never return, thereby disregarding the need for an excuse…

But he liked it at Hogwarts, and Dean would likely hunt him down anyway.

He could jump out of the window, and Dean would be so filled with sorrow that he would forget all about the portrait…

That was promising, Seamus thought to himself. Although the death might be a bit messy. Maybe breaking his leg would be enough.

Seamus had just decided to break his own leg and had risen from his chair in order to find something suitably heavy when he heard someone yell "Seamus!" and begin descending the stairs angrily.

His nerve failed him.

He fled.

* * *

_L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog_

"Oh, Lyall, I do not know what to do," Edward proclaimed, looking troubled. "The L'ongle d'orteil is hidden so well. I am no hero! I am but a boy."

Terry stood nearby, singing under his breath, "Bloody hell you scalawag, bloody hell, bloody hell!"

"No, lad," Calix proclaimed in a thick Irish accent. "You are a man. A strong and honorable man. The stars proclaim that you will go far."

"They do?"

"Aye, that they do, lad."

"You see, Ed-Harry?" Diane asked, taking Edward's arm. "You are a hero! And you know something else?"

Edward looked at her with serious eyes. "What, Annabel?"

"I…love you!"

They kissed, and Ron booed and threw Every Flavor Beans at the portrait.

Diane broke the kiss short and marched up to the foreground of the portrait. "What is your problem, little boy? You are interrupting our performance!"

In the background, Calix was whispering to Edward, "Are you sure you want to change your stage name to Harry?"

"Of course," Edward whispered back. "He is divine inspiration."

Diane flipped her hair disdainfully at an amused looking Ron and said, "I shall tell Dean that you were being disrespectful to us. He will have you drawn and quartered."

Lavender giggled and whispered behind her hand to Parvati. "I think Diane's been having an affair with Sir Cadogan."

Parvati and Lavender burst into a fit of giggles.

A fair few Gryffindors had shown up for the opening night performance of _L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog_ in the common room. After much fruitless persuasion by Dean, and outright begging by Seamus, the actors had refused to change back to how they'd been. Calix had been the only one even willing to listen to reason, and that was because Dean had promised him a personal frame. Unfortunately, he had found himself a place with the drunken monks on the fourth floor, and so that plan had failed. Edward had changed his name soon after he had met Harry, and wouldn't even consider changing back, no matter what he was told.

After a fair few arguments and many hours of brooding, Harry had eventually realized that Dean had meant no harm in making Edward, and Seamus had meant none in telling Edward all about Harry.

He still hadn't shown up for the play, but it was understandable. The way he told it, the actors had realized that night that he was alone in the room and had clamored until Harry uncovered them out of sheer curiosity.

Then Edward had proceeded to "harass" him thoroughly about himself and his "heroic nature" as Harry had repeated, blushing and looking absolutely mortified.

Seamus had been blamed for this, and Dean still hadn't fully forgiven him. Which was why Seamus was sitting at the back of the crowd, feeling sulky and not up to watching Dean's actors and the odd little quirks he had introduced.

"Ron!" he could hear. Apparently Ron had said something stupid and made Hermione angry. Seamus pushed his way forward to watch in spite of himself. "What did I tell you!" Hermione yelled, "Dean doesn't want you throwing things at his portrait! He worked hard on it, and you have no right destroying it like that!"

"You tell him, young lady!" Edith called proudly from her frame. "That little ruffian needs to learn his place!"

Ron scowled at Edith and opened his mouth to argue with her, but Hermione cut him off.

"Not a word, Ron, and you apologize to them!"

"But Hermione-"

Whack. Hermione smacked Ron in the back of the head. "Ron…" she warned

"Oh, fine," Ron groused. "Sorry…"

Edith appeared delighted. "Thank you, young man," she said with a gracious nod of her head. Then she looked at Hermione eagerly and said, "Is that really all you need to do to control him?"

Hermione appeared uncomfortable at this turn of events. "Er…"

"Alfred!" Edith hollered. "Come here, now!"

Alfred ambled over. "I'm here, I'm here…what do you want?"

Edith smacked Alfred in the back of the head. "Oy!" he cried, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. "Are you mad, woman?"

"Alfred, what did I tell you about calling me that?" Edith said disapprovingly. "And what have I told you about wearing your shoes on stage?"

Alfred's feet were indeed bare, and he looked down at them guiltily. "Ah…"

"Go put your shoes on, Alfred," Edith commanded, and Alfred tottered away, still rubbing the back of his head.

"Brilliant!" Edith murmured, looking thrilled. "Thank you dear," she said to Hermione, who looked very uncomfortable. "He never puts his shoes on…"

"Well, I guess I can't be very mad at you anymore."

Seamus jumped and spun around. Dean stood beside him, watching the scene between Hermione and Edith with a rueful smile.

"What?" Seamus asked hopefully.

"Well, I suppose I should have expected them to be tainted eventually. They were always so curious about the 'other frame worlds'" Dean sighed. "I just didn't think it would happen so soon…"

Seamus shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you know…they grow up so fast…" he said, feeling very confused.

Dean sighed again. "They really do, don't they?"

"…Yeah…?" Seamus felt as though Dean had just sent his only daughter off to Hogwarts for the first time or something similar. He wracked his brain for something to say. "Er…you can always…have more?"

Dean's eyes lit up. "That's a brilliant idea, Seamus!" He pulled Seamus into a brief hug before dashing off to the boys' staircase and hurling himself up it.

Seamus still felt a bit confused, but that was alright, because he and Dean were friends again. He turned around and marched back to the portrait, intending to find out what, if anything,_ L'ongle d'orteil d'Ickiblog _meant.

* * *

_A/N: And there you have it. It wasn't meant to be humor, like most of the rest of my fics. My little beta said she didn't like it because it wasn't funny. Well it wasn't meant that way! It was more along the lines of trying to get the plot bunny to stop eating all my salads and besides, I liked the idea of the actors in the portraits, sort of like a magical interactive movie that changes every time you watch it. Review and tell me what you think, and feel free to tell me if you think my french is horrible._


End file.
